Poems by Richard Epstein. Not much commentary, only one picture (sorry, Alice), and little disruption: just a place to find poems by Richard Epstein

Thursday, May 18, 2017

Chains They Forged in Life

The poems no one heard of populate

This verbosphere, invisible and bleak,Dottering incoherently in dryAnd crumby cupboards, turning old bedsheets grayOn sleepovers, making little girls pale,Afraid that they have accidentally bled.Elegiac and embarrassed, full of tropesDisparaged by Seleucian kings, most tellStories of unrequited jealousyEngraved on stone with sponges, vetted byThe underappreciated and the fatRecipients of Golden Books and schmaltz.A few are goodbye letters, never signed.A few are tax returns, unaudited.Some lisp. Some swoon. Some have these wild ideasAbout the immanence of outer space.They drool. They belch. Complain. Complain. Complain.They like a mirror, write they backwards verse.